


Shattered clan

by AdikaOfMandalore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Pain, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdikaOfMandalore/pseuds/AdikaOfMandalore
Summary: «You are an enemy.» His statement shouldn’t hurt so much, but the sudden, atrocious pain running through your chest hits you with the force of a blaster bolt and you instinctively look down, wondering for a monstrous moment if he didn’t actually shot you.He tenses when you get up as well, but you won’t let this argument make you feel inferior nor more afraid than you already are. You made your choice, you choose truth over a lovely, comfortable lie, and now you’ll have to accept and deal with whatever has to come from it.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Shattered clan

Din wants to ask you about the box. He knows it’s highly hypocrite of him to even manifest such curiosity, but he can’t help it. 

He is drawn to you in every possible way, you are his personal wonder, and the Beskar-clad bounty hunter always has to restrain himself from asking you a thousand questions and then some more. You are a mistery hidden in plain sight. 

From your unintelligible accent to the way you dress (never fancy nor extravagant, but always wearing sober, plain colors and materials; usually a russet brown tunic with matching taupe pants and boots) to the dull light that sometimes glazes over your eyes when you don’t think he’s paying attention. Usually, this happens when you are peering inside the box or drumming subconsciously your slender fingers over its smooth lid. Like right now.

The hull of the ship is brisky, metallic and mostly silent, except for the merry gibberish coming from the Child – sitting at the small table of the non-existent kitchenette across from Mando and intent in studying his every movements – and the low, soothing voice of the man in armour explaining to his tiny ad'ika what he’s currently doing and why. 

Polishing each piece of Beskar is a tedious task, but it has to be done and Din welcomes the repetitive, diligent gestures with open arms, since they keep his mind off, well, you.

You, cross-legged on the makeshift cot on the floor, hair still damp from your cold, quick shower and eyes emptily trained to the small, rectangular wooden box nesting between your slender hands.

You, slumped posture and barely moving, barely breathing. Ashen face and heavy eyelids.

You–

«What is it, Din?» Your calm voice rings in the silence, unexpected, with a lovely, distant sing-song quality to it.

The bounty hunter straightens up, violently flushing under the helmet, caught at staring at you without even noticing himself.

You look up at him, eyes darting effortlessly into his despite the black, glassy visor. But, then again, you always seem able to plunge straight into his soul, no matter how many layers of armour – physical and metaphorical – he is wearing to hide himself.

«I can feel the gears turning in your head. What is it?» you insist, a benevolent gleam in your pupils when you stand up and join him in the kitchen quarter, taking seat at the only other stool available and sitting the box on the table beside the Child. Their curiosity immediately picks up and they jump towards it with tiny, three-fingered paws. You let them with a small, endearing smile gracing your lips; the ligneous container, barely longer than your hand, looks huge compared to the petite creature before you.

«The box» Mando eventually gives in in a breathy tone, studying his adoptive child as well, fists clutching at the cloth of wool to restrain himself from taking the box and study it up close.

«What about it?» you push calmly, slightly surprised he’s actually answering. He’s always so… closed off. And introvert, extremely introvert. Like he’s scared of opening up with someone, scared of the intimacy that comes with knowing deeply another person. You guess that’s one of the reasons you never told him about your past, about your life before all hell broke loose and you lost everything you ever held dear. You sense his curiosity towards you, the myriads of questions that run through his mind when he looks at you, but you also perceive his hesitation and how his own curiosity makes him uncomfortable. He’s afraid to get close, of getting hurt and watch himself shatter to nothing all over again, and you’re not sure he’s even aware of this devouring fear and panic preventing him from finally being happy and at ease.

«You- always look sad, when you hold it» he admits, tone so grave and low you can barely hear him over the voice modulator of his helmet.

«Oh» you can only mutter, dropping your gaze towards the kid still trying to find a way to open the box and see what’s concealing… with their pointy, tiny teeth. You smile fondly and, bending over the table, you caress with the tip of your thumb their leaf-like ear, their peach fuzz covering it tickling your pad slightly. The strange creature coos happily at your show of affection and, turning clumsily to you, they all but shove the box in your direction, clearly asking for your help.

«I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-» Mando, clearly embarassed by his own admission, stumbles over his own words and starts fidgeting with the piece of cloth he was using to polish his chest plate, now discarded to the side. Just now you notice he’s only wearing his under clothes; dark, worn out, but still perfectly fitting for his toned figure. A glimpse of the man under the Beskar.

«It’s alright. It’s just… memories, you know?» You shrug, tittering when the Child taps impatiently your hands with theirs and points at the box. Again.

A gravel like sound comes from the vocoder, a swift, warm whisper of air. A chuckle.

«Bad ones?»

You didn’t mean to stiffen at his next question, but you can’t control it. And, by the time you relax once again, it’s too late. He noticed.

«Sorry, it’s not my place to-»

«’S okay, Din, really. They were very bad, once, but now they are a part of the woman I’ve come to be.» You shrug like it’s no big deal, but your eyes lost some of their usual, sharp light and, even though you regained a composed posture, the colour still has to come back to your ashen face.

«I suppose you’ve heard of the Great Jedi Purge?» you then ask, hoping you didn’t ruin whatever is going on right now with your uncontrolled slip.

«Jetii? Aren’t they the people of…» he trails off, looking pointedly down at the Child, now becoming fussy because they can’t open the box; there’s no way to open it physically.

You hesitate. Perhaps the Mandalorian is not the only one afraid of breaking the wall.

But you’ve grown so comfortable with the mask you’ve been wearing for years, now, with being but a simple mechanic of Tatooine, that you start visibly trembling at the idea of taking it off, of showing yourself for who you really are after so long. And you don’t want to lose Din’s trust, not after all you’ve had to go through to earn it, not ever. You care deeply about him and you secretly vowed your life to his ad'ika. The mere thought of losing the closest thing to a family you had in ages… you press your lips in a thin, livid line, hoping he won’t notice the nausea overtaking you, this time.

But for how long can you keep on pretending it’s okay to hide your own persona? You can’t build a relationship – whatever it might be or become – over a foundation of lies and secrets. You know that and the fact that he trusted you with his name, his real name, makes you feel all the more worse.

And, well, you are to go on a quest to find the kid’s home, so every piece of information you may have, it might be essential. All the Jedi temples are but ruins and completely devoid of life, but it’s still something you alone know and can work on; something that might turn out to be helpful to your search for their native planet, if only you’d talk to him.

Well, there goes nothing.

«We are – you agree, turning to the Child before you, averting Mando’s burning gaze as if life itself depends on it. – Use the Force, little one» you then softly prompt, letting what you just said sink in, giving Din time to mull over it.

«You are one of them» he eventually blows out. Curt, distant. Your heart misses a beat, because now you sense him looking at you and seeing nothing but a stranger. A foe of his people.

You can only nod, heaving a shaky breath when he takes the small creature in his arms, away from you and your Makerforsaken box. 

He stands, rigid, shushing the kid when they motion towards you with muffled wails of surprise and distress, and just stares you down.

«You are an enemy.» His statement shouldn’t hurt so much, but the sudden, atrocious pain running through your chest hits you with the force of a blaster bolt and you instinctively look down, wondering for a monstrous moment if he didn’t actually shot you. 

He tenses when you get up as well, but you won’t let this argument make you feel inferior nor more afraid than you already are. You made your choice, you choose truth over a lovely, comfortable lie, and now you’ll have to accept and deal with whatever has to come from it.

«I’m not, Din, I’m not.»

«Don’t call me that! – he all but barks, hugging the green toddler tighter to his chest. His ragged breath cuts the dense air of the hull of the ship, loud and agonizing even through the helmet. It almost sounds like barely contained sobs. – You don’t get to call me that. Never again.»

«Please, just- just listen to me.» And you sound so pathetic and feeble, but what else did you expect? You’ve hidden this truth from him for years, and, if at first it was distrust and caution that made you do that, you really had no excuses for waiting this long.

«And why should I? Mh? So that you can tell me some other lie? Or use one of your mind tricks over me?» His voice cracks and he’s never sounded so helpless and betrayed before.

«I would never do that to you! – you forcefully shake your head, hurt that he’d even think such thing, but admitting it’s only fair he does. – I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I never told you before. But you have to believe me, Iloveyou, the both of you, you are my family. And I would never do anything against you!»

«A family is not built over lies.» He’s shutting you out and you don’t know how to fix what it’s now just shattered glass at your feet. You don’t even take into consideration using the Force to compel him to listen, you would never forgive yourself if you did. And neither would he.

So you just nod weakly and let him depart to the cockpit to cool off and think. The Child looks at you from over his trembling shoulder, sobbing loudly, reaching with desperate claws. Their distress is bitter on your tongue. Just as much as Din’s pain and your own guilt.

You find yourself slumping against the cold durasteel wall, eyes brimming with unshed tears, mentally cursing yourself. 

From the table, the ligneous glint of the discarded box winks at you, mocks you.

With gritted teeth and an aching heart, you take a hold of it with the Force and slam it against the opposite wall, again and again, before bringing your legs to your chest and hiding your puffy face against the knees.

You fall asleep like that, crying over the remainings of your shattered clan.


End file.
